


Territorial Disputes

by Like_a_Hurricane



Series: Pernicious Prompting [24]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, First Time, Frostiron Month, Loki is a BAMF, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Tony, Tony Stark is a BAMF, Trust Issues, helpful Avengers, minor size kink, prompt: firsts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 11:44:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1981752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Like_a_Hurricane/pseuds/Like_a_Hurricane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Tony had any sort of clue that Loki actually gave a fuck about him, involved a lot of fire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Territorial Disputes

Before the _Burning M_ incident, Tony Stark had no idea what sort of value Loki Lie-smith might consider his existence to be worth. He thought he understood himself as lumped in with the other Avengers and probably considered the most valuable of them to Loki (aside from Thor, who was sorted closer in the Family range of approximate worth) because of Tony’s resources and intellect, as well as the way they tended to get on like a house on fire intellectually.

Apparently, the inventor had been very wrong, somehow.

He was still trying to figure out how it had even happened.

Of course, they hadn’t exactly been “real enemies” for a long while, by now. They hadn’t gone to all-out war on completely opposite sides ever since Odin’s madness in the wake of Frigga’s death (which came out in full not long after Loki had been revealed as an impostor on the throne and the real Odin awoken again) led the All-Father to attempt to bring about an early and potentially fiery and all-consuming Ragnarök capable of destroying all of the nine realms. Loki had been the first to warn the Avengers of the All-Father’s madness, and they had doubted him right up until the first assassination attempt against Jane Foster and Thor, conducted while Loki had been arguing at length with Nick Fury and Tony Stark both.

At the same time, post-Ragnarök, and post-Thanos, they hadn’t ever actually been “real allies” again either. Well, not as far as the others aside from Natasha knew, anyway. Loki still hadn’t actually done much (beyond those always brief and blatantly self-serving stints) to redeem himself in that time, but he hadn’t exactly attempted hostile takeover of the earth or mass genocide again, either. Also he had perhaps gotten in the habit of dropping off Kree tech in Tony's lab and mocking the human inventor's attempts to make sense of the pieces of ship he plucked selectively from their wreckage; although why exactly he had been in the habit of ruthlessly cutting down whole fleets of Kree on a bi-monthly basis for nearly half a year now, no one knew exactly, so the relative "goodness" of that whole activity was up for debate with Barton and Steve a bit too often lately.

Aside from those scant shady pseudo-honorable gestures on the universe's behalf, Loki had otherwise conducted mischief which included general law-breaking, but those he killed on earth in the ensuing two years became a much more select group, with a smaller head-count, and all of the ones anyone could prove seemed to be either cases of self-defense, or of vengeance, from Loki against other villains, and occasionally criminals of a more human (usually in the form of mercenaries hired to menace him by foolhardy organize crime syndicates) nature. There had even been less than a hundred of them, if only barely.

 _Though again,_ Tony reminded himself: _those are just the ones with witnesses or other evidence he left behind; there’s probably other bodies out there we might never find._ The thought was a sobering one, but his pulse was still a bit elevated, and his skin still felt a bit flush and tingly across the back of his neck. Apparently, reminding himself of how much of a pain-in-the-ass evil bastard the trickster was, wasn't dissuading his infatuation, now that hope had caused it to bloom in full with so much enthusiasm that had the phenomenon been botanical, Tony would have suffocated from an excess of flower petals in his lungs hours ago.

Or it might have, right up until it was obliterated yet again by a different reminder. One of what the god of lies was apparently willing to claim with words, with no intention to ever follow through on. Somehow.

_Okay. Let’s review again._

~~

The ‘ **Burning M** ’ Incident

No one, least of all a certain mad inventor himself, would have expected Loki to rampage against another villain with the sort of vicious ferocity he had once levelled against both of his own fathers, in times past, just because the villain in question had attempted (and very nearly succeeded in) killing one measly little mortal... Not even if the mortal in question just happened to be _Tony Stark_.

To be fair, the battle had been hard-won, and over for three days when it happened. Tony had spent those three days getting chewed out by Pepper, Rhodey, and Bruce by turns (no really; they took on the task in alternating hourly shifts) until he finally gave in and extracted Extremis back out of his system despite the screaming agony that entailed.

Applying it in the first place had been a failsafe, a last-chance back-up measure in case things went shit, and it had. Oh, it had. Tony could still remember what his own intestines had looked like spread out a bit unnaturally, and really, really wished he couldn’t. Alas, neither application nor removal of Extremis actually allowed for healing of traumatic memories of his own partial disembowelment.

As such, he was really eager to find the bastard who had done it to him, and nearly vaporized half of the other remaining Avengers on the field that day: the maddeningly enigmatic criminal mastermind known as M, the leader of the real Ten Rings. The real Ten Rings, it turned out, had parted ways with AIM over disagreements over the tactics of the Ten Rings’ artificial terrorist arm and their false leader The Mandarin, even before the first bombings. They had allowed the purging of AIM and The Mandarin to lead organizations like S.H.I.E.L.D., and even Hydra, to believe that The Ten Rings’ leadership had been wiped out. In the meantime, they had grown, while no one had been watching.

In the middle of a strategy meeting with all of the Avengers around one table, and the Directors of S.H.I.E.L.D. over video conference (however reluctantly on the Avengers’ end) there had been a cacophonous sound and the whole room had heated up as though something behind all of the Avengers had burst into flame. A wave of energy from the heart of the phenomenon knocked out communications to the room, though JARVIS remained, already beginning diagnostics.

The Avengers were all on their feet and braced for a threat within seconds and then they just stopped, and stared.

There was _screaming_.

The rear wall of the meeting room, where a table and extra chairs had formerly resided (presumably now part of the improbably melted smears of matter all over the charred wall) was still smoking, and before it stood Loki, looking horrifyingly enraged beyond the point of sane return, as he snarled down––really not a good look for him, with half of his face badly burned to the point that his teeth were highly visible through the burnt-out hollow under one of is cheekbones, which grew steadily more grotesque for a moment as the tissues re-formed and knit back together just slow enough to leave far too little to the imagination––at a howling mortal on the ground at his feet. His expression remained feral, focused and coldly vindictive for a long moment, unchanging as he slowly lowered the heel of his boot until the scream wheezed, choked, and cut off; although he then almost daintily stopped just before actually crushing anything vital.

“Thank you,” the god said to M, as though the mortal’s forced silence had only been good manners. “Avengers, here I have for you a cur in sore need of incarceration... perhaps after some medical care, for those hands.” He pointed down at where the skin on M’s forearms and hands still lightly smoldered, just then puffing out as he struggled for breath. “Or perhaps not. I will gift you _heroes_ that choice, this time,” Loki rumbled, his voice edged in the faintest suggestions of sounds no human could make: the hiss of an aggressive raven and the low growl of a particularly bloodthirsty wolf. Then he kicked M away toward the Avengers and rasping, choking sobs for air escaped the injured man.

Steve and Bruce leapt toward him immediately, followed closely by Clint and Natasha, who covered them as they carried M out the door and toward the more heavily secured (basically the “for enemies” section) of the tower’s medical wing. Once the doctor and super-soldier were both clear, the two former S.H.I.E.L.D. agents continued to cover the exit and keep their eyes on Loki; although Natasha stepped closer when the trickster god stumbled back

Shifting most of his weight onto the spear he had held so threateningly just a moment before, but which now had its sharp end buried in the floor, Loki managed to regain both most of his balance and only a bit less-than-upright posture in time to side-step around the spear, to avoid the would-be helping-hand of his brother before it could touch his arm.

He didn’t seem as lucky as to be able to escape Tony at his back a moment later, though, or perhaps he had just lacked the energy and will both necessary to move himself away. Eyes snapping shut even as he leaned a bit into the touch as much out of necessity to keep his balance as any other reason. Not that there _was_ any other reason, the inventor had thought––if only at first.

After watching for a moment as the skin at last finished knitting on Loki’s face, leaving only discoloration as some further repairs continued to take place under the surface, Tony asked lightly, “Was it the dragon?”

“Yes,” Loki said.

“Did it survive?”

An uptick at one corner of Loki’s mouth: just a flicker of satisfied bloodlust before his expression again went blank. “No.”

“I thought you and M stopped stepping on each other’s toes years ago after that time you two almost destroyed Oklahoma?” the inventor prompted further. “Victoria Hand swore blind you had some contract with the Ten Rings and everything.”

The trickster's smile curved upward more sharply on one side, unbalanced and off-kilter and bitter as he could be, which was quite a bit. "Yes, I drew up a contract with them over two years ago, after an unfortunate misunderstanding between themselves, my own person, and Mephisto." Eyes still shut, the god raised his free hand and touched the side of Tony’s neck, long fingertips brushing his spine and his thumb brushing across the mortal’s pulse-point. “Unfortunately, he strayed into territory reserved solely for myself, and very nearly stole it.”

The inventor was confused, a little, by the touch. It was almost tender, and would’ve genuinely felt lovely if not for the blood and grit on Loki’s hand. Flinching hadn’t even occurred to him, for a number of reasons he usually tried not to dwell on, nor did he tense up; instead he relaxed into it. His eyes even fell shut at the feel of the trickster’s thumb stroking up and down the side of his throat for just a moment, the cold touch becoming all the more inexplicably... _nice_. "Do we need to put out any fires?"

"The last of them was from the death of his dragon, which is now in several large pieces scattered over a mountain that used to be that wretch's primary headquarters. I'm certain JARVIS can find it on a map, for you."

"I can, sir. I've already traced the energy signature of Mr. Lie-smith's arrival back to its source. What fires there are seem to be sufficiently far from any surrounding towns to be no urgent threat to human life," the AI confirmed.

"Thank you, JARVIS," Loki sighed, his eyes fluttering open as he let his head tip back and some of his bone-deep exhaustion show on his face, along with a flicker of morbid amusement, but it was a cold and increasingly tragic-looking thing, like the god might be feeling something almost akin to regret.

"Then what the _fuck_ did he do to piss you off so badly?" Tony asked lightly

“As I said before: he trespassed.” The god's eyes lowered then, to stare straight ahead. He seemed unwilling to glance at either his adoptive brother, or the mortal under his touch. He then let go of the inventor and reached into a pocket dimension up his sleeve long enough to pull out several slightly-melted (and two wholly shattered) pieces of alien weaponry: formerly M's ten rings, adapted from Makluan technology. "I believe these should be properly disposed of, or learned from. Again, I leave the choice to you."

Numbly, still a bit in shock as he was, Tony lifted both of his own hands, cupping them together with palms facing up, allowing the god of mischief to pour the pieces of damaged alien metals into his grasp. “Right. Um.”

“I am glad you appear whole again,” Loki added.

Tony stared up at him in a state of some confusion, then.

“I would hate to have let him live for nothing.”

“Yeah, thanks for that, actually,” the inventor said, in the same tones as he’d said it before when he’d watched Loki do something selfish and cruel that none of the other Avengers would ever have let _Iron Man_ get away with, but which also benefitted Tony’s own purposes at the time, in ways he really did appreciate, but which he knew his own teammates wouldn’t ever approve of.

Rather than his usual dry humor, or the indignant pride that seemed to bleed through impatiently when he was worn down by exhaustion and/or injury, the god of lies offered only the thinnest bitter, pained and self-deprecating mockery of a smile in his entire repertoire, and muttered, “You are welcome, Tony,” with an oddly hollow fondness in his voice. Then he moved just enough to break contact between himself and the inventor, and proceeded to vanish into thin air.

At first, Tony was just worried that the god seemed to be really out of it. Then he glanced over at the horrified-and-awestruck expression Thor was wearing, and realized that it was much, much worse than that. Playing the words over again, Tony searched for hints and clues, but the conclusion he reached caused him to pale. “Did he just imply that M broke his contract by _almost managing to kill me_ , which was something strictly outlined as being under _Loki’s_ _own_ purview, in that contract?”

“That’s common parlance, in inter-villain contracts, actually,” Natasha mused. “We did find out the terms of Doom’s the last time we had to help out Reeds around Latveria, and he has all of the Fantastic Four’s deaths claimed.”

“It would not be the first time Loki has made such a deal, but it was a very long time ago, and it was to save my life, and the lives of Sif and the Warriors Three,” Thor said quietly. “We were much, much younger, then.” His brow furrowed.

“How long since that last dragon incident in Oklahoma?” Natasha asked her fellow former-S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

“Two years? At least?” Clint estimated.

“Funny, isn’t it, how Loki hasn’t tried very hard to kill you in that time, Tony,” the assassin mused airily.

“But... whuh... _why?!_ ” the inventor snapped, utterly incredulous. “It doesn’t make any sense! I mean, I’m clearly the most useful non-family Avenger to him, because I always need tech he can almost always provide and I’m a bit morally suspect in more consistently hedonistic ways than the rest of you, and also the tower and monetary resources of the Avengers are essentially dependent on me and JARVIS and Stark Industries, which I’m the major stock-holder of, but that wouldn’t be enough for him to be pissed off _that fucking bad_ , I mean, have you seen him that pissed since Ragn-” He cut off, suddenly realizing what he’d just said. “Ohhhh shit.”

“I think he’s finally caught on,” Thor sighed.

“He was reeeally pissed,” Tony said, like he was only now really considering just how livid the trickster had been. All he had thought about at the time was the visibly discolored wound on Loki’s left side, and the burns on his face, and the way his voice had sounded so bleak. He’d seen a need to get him talking, and explaining, before the god could slip away, and he knew touch would anchor just enough to stop him teleporting away too fast. Now he was thinking about just how much wrath had been in the god’s voice moments before he had handed (er, kicked) M over to the Avengers.

M was lucky––ridiculously lucky, in fact––to be alive, with only two limbs cripplingly injured. If M’s psyche proved to be anything less that completely shattered, Tony might actually go into shock.

 _Territory_.

_I would hate to have let him live for nothing._

The inventor shuddered a little. “What. What just happened here, Thor?”

“My brother appeared, with the leader of the Ten Rings suffering grievous wounds from dragon-fire, and handed him to the Avengers, stating he would gift us the choice whether to let the cur be healed or suffer. He then accused M of having broken particular territorial terms of their contract, stated that he was glad to see you well, and left,” the Thunderer summarized, “but only after implying that he would have considered letting M live at all to be worthless if you hadn’t survived.”

Thor had such naturally earnest and solemn features that he could portray more profound and steadfast concern than any other being Tony had ever met.

Tony blinked several times. “He... only let him live, as a favor to me, because I would be mad if he’d killed M before I got the chance to try.” He took a breath, held it a second with his mouth open as though words wanted to escape him, but could not, and then let it out with a sort of stunned look. “I... wow, why is that really kind of _hot_?”

“Focus, Tony,” Natasha chided.

“How are you somehow not very surprised by this?” he demanded.

She shot him a censuring look. “Tony Stark, that god has been dropping by in your lab on a nearly monthly basis ever since Ragnarök failed to manifest, usually gifting you with strange new alien technologies from ships he’s destroyed or sabotaged recently, for reasons we’re still mostly unclear on. He’s like a cat that’s adopted you, bringing you succulent bits of his kills. Did you not notice that he wasn’t getting much out of that other than time in your lab?”

“Well... but...” He had an argument. It was a good one. He just didn’t want to fess up to it, if he didn’t have to.

“He once admitted to me that he found you to be a challenge for him in flyte and banter, in battle and outside of it,” Thor rumbled in addition.

Tony’s mouth was hanging open again. His words continued to fail him before even leaving his mouth, this time.

“Also, ever since he offered to ally with us in the first place, he’s been staring at your ass whenever you’re out of your armor,” Natasha concluded.

“But he turned me down for sex more than once!” the inventor snapped.

A long silence followed.

“What?” only _then_ did the assassin sound nonplussed.

Tony gestured toward her vehemently. “Yes! Exactly!”

“Боже мой.”

“Sorry, my Russian is a bit rusty; what?” The inventor squinted at her.

“Your brother is an idiot, Thor,” Natasha groaned. “You both are. I’m out!” She turned on her heel and began to stalk away.

“Wait, Nat, please explain the idiocy one more time, I’m sorry!” Tony rambled quickly, darting after her and running in front of her and trying to make her stop without touching her. Touching her, he had learned from experience, meant that whatever part of him happened to be doing the touching was considered fair game for the breaking. Luckily it had only taken him two broken fingers to work that out. “Nat, please, please, help me here, because if what I think you’re thinking is right I need to try and strangle him, and if it’s not, I’d like your actual input and will happily either sing your praises or kneel and grovel a bit if need be.”

She glared at him. “Really?”

He made a face, but nodded. “Kinda, yeah.”

She raised one perfectly-arched brow at him.

“Fine! Yes, if you really want me to,” he snapped. “I’m at a loss, here.”

Natasha swore a bit more extensively in Russian under her breath, then exhaled a long sigh. “Only because you’re so young will I explain this. I forget, sometimes. Loki here is still being a fool, doing this at his age.” She rolled her eyes. “Though to be fair to him, he’s still not adjusted to seeing the future in terms of the human time-spans he’s more recently been living through: earth’s cycles rather than Asgard’s.” She shot Thor a look briefly, too, at that, and then met Tony’s gaze again. “He wants you, obviously, but he doesn’t want you to lose interest. He doesn’t want to be dropped or cast aside or dismissed... so, you idiot, he’d probably turn down casual sex, because it’s not actually the sex-with-Tony-Stark he’s after, because he wants _more_ than that. And because he’s also _Loki_ , he doesn’t settle for less than any diva would; it’s all or nothing; therefore, he turned you down, repeatedly, because he’s a god, and he doesn’t think you want more than sex with him, because _you don’t dare admit it to even yourself_ , Stark.”

“I never imagined a world where he’d say yes, because he’s––he’s...”

With more resignation than anything akin to agreement with the sentiment, Thor supplied, “Because he is _Loki_.”

“Yeah,” Tony concurred, equally doubtful-sounding now he’d heard someone else say it.

“You still haven’t realized you value him more than he values himself right now, have you?” she mused. “The reverse is clearly also true with you, or you both wouldn’t be in this stupid mess.”

Tony swallowed tightly.

“There’s a bloody handprint on your neck, by the way,” she said, “in case you forgot. Look in a mirror before you touch it, if you’re still really having trouble believing.”

“I think I get it,” he said, though he didn’t move to wipe away, or even reach for, the mark at his neck. He could still feel it on his skin, but it was warmer now, from how flushed his skin was suddenly. The absence of the coolness of it from earlier made him frown slightly once he noticed it. “We’re idiots.”

“Yes,” Natasha agreed, patting his cheek. “Also, apparently you’re his territory.”

Something like righteous outrage suddenly flared up at that. He touched the assassin’s hand with an air of reverence, as though she were a queen. “This is why I love and fear you, Natasha. Thank you.” He kissed her knuckles lightly, and let her go. “Now... now I need to blow things up until I can think about this clearly. Let me know how things work out with M, and tell Fury I wasn’t psychologically fit to be anywhere near him, or aware of where he is and how vulnerable his health might be.” He patted Clint’s shoulder as he headed out the door.

“You gonna tap that?” the archer inquired casually.

“I dunno, he seems like a _really_ hot top, to me.”

“Okay I give up, you can go now,” Clint groaned.

Laughing at him, Tony stalked away, still seething under the smile a bit, silently counting his own steps without thinking about it until he started to tap out a version of the rhythm of each step against the side of the elevator at just the right speed so that he finished just as the door opened at the bottom.

It had been a while since he’d reflexively churned up calculations based on his own footsteps to avoid feeling as much as possible. Half a year, at least, since he’d used one of his oldest and most deeply-ingrained mental failsafes: the ones that used to give him sufficient endurance to keep him quiet for all the time it took to last out one of Howard’s drunken rants at a party around the holidays, all those times he had regretted coming home even that briefly. Escaping had never been an option, unless he wanted more ranting of a disciplinary nature later, for not sticking around to listen to his father.

Tony shook off the thought with annoyance. He knew now, from all-too-personal experience, more about how much of that had been the alcohol addiction Howard had been just as afflicted by as his son eventually was too. Two years dry had given Tony perspective on that, amongst a lot of other things.

He let himself think about Loki again and felt another prickle of anger.

_Territory. Are you fucking kidding me? You wanted my arch-nemesis to hold back because you had claim you weren’t even going to take? What kind of presumptuously chivalrous shit is that? You do not get to do that. You do not get to claim me without telling me, not like this._

Before he stepped out of the elevator he glanced up at its mirrored ceiling of it, tilting his head a bit to one side as well as back to get a look at the hand-print on his neck. He swallowed thickly, almost able to feel those fingers again, just staring at it.

He’d really like to feel those fingers again, and touching a lot more of him.

As soon as he ceased being so pissed off he might actually put on a suit of armor and do an abridged re-enactment of the first time they met, except with the original roles of defenestrator and defenestrated reversed.

_I don’t let strangers put themselves on the line for me, I try my damnedest to prevent other Avengers put themselves on the line for me, and if Pepper or Rhodey even so much as tried there would be a reckoning. You sure as shit don’t get to do it either, god or no._

He had a lot of thoughts along those lines swimming through his brain. Other thoughts, deep under the anger and frustration, there remained reserves of uncertainty. There was still the possibility that Loki was again covetous of something he would never actually claim for his own; it had happened before.

Recalling the way the god’s fingers had tightened a little, as he’d said, _I am glad you appear whole again_ ; and the strained failure to achieve an actual smile before he had said, _You are welcome, Tony_ , despite the fact that up until then he’d stopped calling the inventor by his first name starting just a month or so post-Ragnarök; and Tony had to wonder, and allowed himself a sliver of something disconcertingly like hope.

Then he put on a lighter, more low-powered (but still high-speed) suit of armor he used for in-tower combat drills with minimal home-habitat destruction, and started a high-level combat simulation.

~~

A few hours of therapeutic destruction later, and Tony was clear-headed enough to start plotting out possible solutions as he showered post-workout. He became so lost in thought that Bruce had to actually grab his arm to stop him as the inventor strode out of the changing/shower rooms, still toweling his hair and muttering to himself.

Jerking slightly in surprise, the inventor turned and smiled at him with only a bit of strained effort. “Hey, doc. How’s the patient?”

“Not so good, Tony. His burns are incredibly severe. Even once the S.H.I.E.L.D. doctors got started on him, they said he might never regain full use of more than six of his fingers. Two of them were charred off, and two have just lost too much nerve and muscle tissue.” He raised his eyebrows pointedly at the inventor. “Dragon-fire is a real bitch, apparently.”

“We knew that one already,” Tony muttered. “You’re extremely angry and disapproving, I take it?”

“I don’t like seeing anyone hurt like that, when it’s at all avoidable. I’m a doctor, and suffering so far beyond my own ability to alleviate is distressing on a fundamental level,” Bruce said coldly. “We’re Avengers. People think we’re heroes. We’re supposed to be better than...” He gestured vaguely in the direction of the medical wing.

“Which is why Loki was never on the short-list for possible members of our little team. Along with his past world-domination attempt when we all first met him.”

“Tony...”

The inventor looked uncomfortable, like he was trying not to squirm under the doctor’s all-too-understanding, just slightly disappointed gaze, but he couldn’t help it. He was a hero on television only. In reality, he wasn’t a good person, even now, in a lot of ways. He couldn’t help but think of M’s injuries and feel more relieved than appalled, because he’d fought M far too long not to know just how close those hands had come to killing not only Tony himself, but almost everyone he cared about these days.

There had been many reasons, many little fundamental flaws in the shape of his psyche and his personality respectively, which had made him so bitterly amused and even proud of earning the moniker “The Merchant of Death” before Afghanistan. When it came down to it, Tony knew he should be much more appalled by Loki’s past actions, and the more recent ones such as the outright torturous crippling injuries he’d inflicted on another sentient being in the form of M, but Tony couldn’t help but feel only calm, and like the world had become a slightly better, safer place, because of M’s total incapacitation and capture.

This was why he stayed with the Avengers, and why he kept Pepper Potts, Rhodey, and even Happy in his life; they reminded him of these shortcomings and expected better of him. For them, Tony would happily strive to be a better human. He could never muster enough enthusiasm for the task when it was on his shoulders alone, but these were people he cared for and respected, and he believed that they deserved only his best.

 _And what does Loki deserve?_ part of his mind wondered, in a voice a bit disconcertingly like Natasha’s. _All the rest you don’t dare inflict on them? The rest you barely even let us see, unless we work to pry it from you?_

The thought made him shiver, because Loki... Loki really _didn’t_ need him to be a good person, and somehow that made his breath catch to consider.

“Sorry,” he told Bruce, with some sincerity, but they both knew it was for the wrong reasons. He wasn’t sorry that he didn’t feel remorse over M’s horrific injuries. He was only sorry that his apathy made Bruce unhappy. That was as good as it was ever really going to get, with Tony, on this matter. “It’s nothing we had any control over, and I don’t doubt you did your best by him, despite all he’s done to make us miserable. You’re a better man than I, Bruce.”

“Sometimes you do worry me that way, Tony,” the doctor sighed.

Tony looked down. “Sorry.”

“I get it because we all know I’ve been there, or the Other Guy wouldn’t-” He stopped, exhaled and shook his head. “I’ve been there. That doesn’t mean I like it.”

“I know. ‘Like’ would be the wrong word for me too, on this.”

“Yeah. You still aren’t all that uncomfortable with it, though.”

“I’m too... relieved?” he admitted, with reluctance.

Bruce nodded. “Yeah. I know.” He looked at Tony more pointedly then. “Nat explained the contract deal to me.”

“Oh.” The inventor grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right. Thoughts?”

“I’m more curious to hear yours before I make too many conclusions of my own.”

“I’ve wanted him for a long while, but never once imagined he might actually _want_ _me_ , rather than just happen to be wanting while I was there and equally interested, so I only ever tried to get casual sex from him, and got turned down,” Tony said. “I don’t like being ‘territory’ in some contract with another villain without even being aware I had any more value to Loki than any other hero on earth aside from Thor.” He cleared his throat quietly. “I just now don’t know which I want more right now: a chance to strangle him, or a chance to blow him.”

Bruce blinked a few times and sighed heavily. “I’m somehow not shocked.”

“Is that too crazy even by my own standards?” the inventor inquired, his voice very low and cautious.

“You...” his friend sighed. “You’re insane, he’s insane, but if he really values you, based on both his greed and insecurity, and yours... he’s clearly capable of outright shocking degrees of loyalty to people he cares about. We all learned that from Ragnarök, when Odin threatened his kids.”

They both shuddered a little in horror at that memory. Loki had successfully made the Hulk take a couple of uneasy back-steps that day.

“I don’t think I’ve got that kind of...” Tony gestured vaguely. “I’m not family.”

“No, you’re not, but he apparently would still tear apart a massive shape-shifting alien dragon and half the Ten Rings for you, because he was pissed off that they came too close to killing you,” Bruce pointed out. “That’s... not a small thing.”

“Yeah.” A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Tony’s mouth. “It really sort of isn’t.” _And while I am still angry about him doing it, I can’t help but still find it ridiculously hot_ , he didn’t add, for the sake of not getting another disappointed brow-furrow from the other scientist.

“If he fucks up, of course, I’ll just shatter his spine a few more times.”

The inventor squeezed his shoulder with a grin. “You’re a good friend, Bruce.”

“I’m also making you eat with us before you scurry away to your lab and refuse to emerge for a few days.”

Tony sighed, “dammit,” but let himself be led away by his doctor.

~~

In the end, Tony was grateful to Bruce for forcing him to socialize with the Avengers before he went down into the labs to brood and plot. It forced him to focus on his teammates and banter and lock his own emotional volatility away reflexively as he always did around enough people who needed to see him looking okay and sane enough not to bother him if he drifted away from them all later on, possibly for a few days. He had spent years learning how to be left alone despite being a socialite, CEO, and perpetually the life of any given party he ever attended.

Not that he'd ever admit to gratitude aloud for the life of him.

Especially not since the others were being quietly expectant at him. The problem with that was, of course, that only Natasha seemed to be capable of sufficient subtlety to pull it off without seeming creepy or obvious about it. The others just kept glancing at him quickly and then away again after just a couple of seconds. Thor, in particular, might have been intermittently staring for whole half-minutes at a time.

As much as the inventor loved the spotlight, this particular version was just ridiculous. "Is this going to turn into an intervention once I finish this pasta?"

"Nah," Clint said. "It's not like you're actually screwing him yet."

"Also we'd be more worried if you were a more world-conquering sort," Natasha added. "As it is, even if he tried to persuade you to take over the world, in the end you'd probably wind up giving it to Pepper."

"That's very true," Tony concurred, looking thoughtful. "So we're pretty sure he's strictly desirous of my sweet ass, and not my extensive resources and connections to secretive and powerful organizations and people the world over?"

Steve frowned at him. “Please never bring up your ass in this context, or in association with any flavor-related adjectives, in conversation with all of us ever again.”

"You are, however, mostly correct, I think, Tony," Thor said. "He might consider those to be... what Darcy explained to me are called 'fringe benefits' on earth?” He looked around at their stoic faces and shrugged. “However, given that Loki does not seem to believe his suit would be welcome, I currently doubt that he has hopes quite such as that."

Steve nodded. "We had Natasha suggest every available betrayal option she could come up with, and brain-stormed a few other ones as a group, and agreed that currently he is operating his schemes at a loss whenever you're involved already, and that his ability to sell out you or even all of us wouldn't be worth what the end results would be, clear and obvious as they have to be to him too, these days, since his megalomania has decreased from Dr. Evil levels to merely... did we decide it was 'Vladimir Putin' levels of ambition and polical scheming?"

The others all nodded, except Tony, who just sniggered.

"Yeah. Technically everything he's been up to on earth since Ragnarök has been only _technically_ legal at least 70% of the time, but still not exactly what you'd call trustworthy in the truth and message-consistency front, since his capacity for lies and other bullshit kind of mean he's forever an unreliable narrator of any story he tells," Clint recalled.

"Yes," the super-soldier agreed. "That."

Tony nodded, thoughtful. "As long as you don't actually expect him to become, I dunno, _tamer_ or anything if I happen to make this work?" he asked, sounding worried.

They all shot him disbelieving, and slightly offended looks.

Said Bruce, “You can’t be serious.”

The inventor began to grin at them all. Times like this, he was reminded of precisely why he liked these people so much. "Perfect answer. Awesome."

"And we all have your back if you need to kill him later, except Thor, who always has Loki's back in the end, but we're good with that," Natasha added.

They continued to watch the inventor for several long seconds then, still looking a bit expectant.

Tony blinked. "Uhm... now what are you all staring at me for."

"How are you planning to handle this?"

Tony realized, slowly, that they wanted to collaborate in his schemes. His catch-Loki-and-try-to-keep-him schemes. Resting his right hand over his heart, he made a show of looking choked up. "You... you all really want to help me get laid?" he sniffled. "Thank you."

Steve made a face, Clint gave an ugly deprecative snort, Natasha shrugged with a cat-like half-smile, and Bruce only rolled his eyes.

"Just tell us what you're plotting so we can minimize collateral damage," the doctor sighed.

"I love you guys, too. I've got about three main plans I'm still deciding between. The first one goes like this..."

~~

The throne of Asgard had not belonged to Odin for several seasons now. Thor had stood by his conviction that he himself was still not ready to be king, if ever he would be. Baldr, whom had been discovered to be Thor's elder, illegitimate half-brother, was offered the throne next, and accepted it.

Thor still still spent many days at a time on earth with the Avengers, and also traveling throughout other realms to maintain bonds of trust with the likes of Alfheim, Dvergarheim and Vanaheim, where they had been made less stable in the wake of Odin's madness and death. Less mobile and more limited by the sheer gravitas of the throne he occupied, King Baldr relied heavily on Sif and Thor as his advisors, but also Loki on the occasions when he could be reached; although Baldr was glad that the trickster usually donned an illusion or other façade on such occasions, for while he was no longer considered a criminal worthy of execution or exile, in Asgard, and people had a new respect for him, but his actions during Ragnarök had frightened many who had only had an inkling, before then, of what terrible destructive powers Loki Lie-smith contained within his blood and his brain alike. He was not trusted, but Loki was always shrewd, and resourceful, and still the primary diplomatic liaison between Asgard, Jotunnheim, Nifelheim, and Helheim.

Baldr was also a shrewd and careful sort of god, not quite as prone to ostentatious displays of grandeur as Odin had been, but he did allow the people of Asgard to feel secure again, even after their betrayal and near-destruction at the hands of his father, whom they had trusted and loved for so long. In their ways, they did trust him more than either Thor or Loki, who had been raised by Odin in ways that were now all too well-known to the whole of Asgard these days, to have been folly.

One thing Baldr was not, was easily impressed by the likes of Tony Stark.

"Look, I just want to know if you've seen him lately, and if you haven't, I was hoping maybe I could hitch a bïfrost round-trip ticket to Helheim and back again."

"I still do not understand to what purpose."

"I told you: personal reasons, and a bit of debt."

"Yes, and it's an answer so vague that I know better than to trust it from the likes of you, Mr. Stark."

The inventor balked just a little. "Excuse me?"

"While he will never be considered heroic as Thor is by most of my people, Loki remains valuable to us here in Asgard, and you have been his enemy before."

"I've also been his _ally_ before."

"So have most people who have tried to kill him lately," Baldr deadpanned.

Tony raised his index finger as though to address that point, then dropped it again. "Yeah, okay, so that's a bad example. I'm still not looking to threaten him or anyone he cares about, and if I did intend to do that why would I, genius as I am, go to _Helheim_? The only people I've ever seen display protectiveness to such a ruthless and terrifying degree as I’ve seen Loki do for kids, are his kids themselves, in how protective they are of each other and of him too. Hel can not only kick my ass, she can just send me to the flip-side of the Land of the Dead and leave me there as long as she pleases. If I had ill-will toward Loki, her kingdom is one of the last places I'd want to be, savvy?"

"Then why are you so vague in stating your intentions?"

"Because I'm still not convinced he's not impersonating you yet."

At that, the king snorted, then burst out laughing.

"Well, are you?"

"I am not, and I should be offended, but at the same time, I cannot blame you in the least."

"That's exactly what he _would_ say."

"I swear to you on my life that I am Baldr and not Loki."

"Thanks."

"Will you now elaborate further?"

"You really think he wouldn't find a way to overhear?"

"The fact that you know him so well makes me only more wary of you."

"I don't care,” Tony said in clipped tones. “What I'm attempting, or what I want to attempt, is too important to me. If I can't take the clear, diplomatically-approved route here, the next person I'm going to will be Amora. If she can't help me herself, she can at least patch me through to Fenrir, and I can get where I need to be. So, Baldr, will you help me out and let me do this in the light, or are you going to relegate me to the shadows the way the rest of Asgard and yourself too continue doing to Loki, even when what he is doing there is vital to Asgard's continued survival?"

Something in the king's stare flickered. "You make a fair point. Go, with my blessing, and may you return in one piece and still living."

Tony bowed low, grinning. "Thank you."

~~

Hel laughed at him. A lot.

He had showed up in one of his newer armor models, and had been very soon frosted over by the intense cold of where he landed in the middle of a wide plain some distance from Hel's castle. His armor had still looked mostly-dignified even while iced over and with snow swirling around him, right up until a massive wolf-shaped creature tackled him to the ground just outside the main entrance, hitting hard enough to launch Tony backwards off the steps into a massive pile of snow.

Then the wolf had tried to lick his face, and his tongue had gotten stuck to the freezing metal.

So at least, when Hel did appear in the doorway and proceed to laugh hysterically, she wasn't laughing at Tony _alone_ but it was still not exactly his most dignified entrance.

Eventually, Fenrir got his tongue free and growled at him a little petulantly.

The siblings made an oddly well-suited pair, when not driving each other slightly crazy as siblings seemed wont to do throughout any and all worlds in the entire galaxy: the horse-sized wolf with black fur, except at the edges of his face and the ruff of his neck where his fur was longest, and the very tips seemed a bit more reddish-brown in bright, direct light, like the color of dried blood; and Hel, as tall and elegant as her father, with her right side pale and fair with long, wavy auburn hair and a bright green eye, while her left side had sleek black hair, skin coloration all in shades of dark navy blue, striped with fine black lines that formed designs that were alternately graceful and swirling, as well as more jaggedly angular, fitted together like puzzle-pieces, flattering the shapes of her limbs and her sharp features; although in just the right light the designs on her face could look just a little skeletal. On her left side, Hel's eye was black from lid to lid, save for the pale graphite-grey of the iris.

Tony had fought alongside them both in Asgard, and been ridiculously impressed by them. They, in turn, had been quite amused by him, and the wolf had been fascinated with JARVIS to the point Tony almost worried there might be a crush involved, but Hel had assured him (as though it were perfectly normal) that her brother hadn't bothered with having a sex drive in about a century and a half, so there should be nothing to worry about. Needless to say, it hadn't actually been all that reassuring, until he had found out Fenrir didn't actually have a mother because he had started out a magic-based construct (like an AI for mages) before slowly developing and advancing himself with Loki's guidance until he chose to develop a soul and become his own person to a level even JARVIS was light-years away from even considering. That had put it all in perspective, thankfully.

"Is this about my father being ridiculous?" Hel sighed, once she finally was able to stop laughing. She wiped a couple of tears from the corner of her darker eye and sniggered once more, then took a deep breath, let it out, and tried to school her expression back into solemnity, with limited success.

"You mean the part where he's being an idiot, and I've been being an idiot, and there's been a bit of angst?" Tony responded, letting the goddess grab him by the shoulders of his armor and haul him upright while Fenrir continued opening and closing his jaws just a little, as his stinging tongue further defrosted.

"Oh, so you've at last gotten your head out of your ass and realized he's infatuated with you?"

Tony felt a jolt of heat from his toes, up through all of his bones to his brain, and then back down through the rest of his body again, in a tingly manner. "Oh good, so he is, then?"

She shot him a slightly exasperated look, and shook her head slowly. "You're right. You're both being idiots. Come inside, please." She freed his armor from the embrace of ice and snow with a gesture and a word, and led him back up to the entrance of her palace.

From the large, opulent main hall, through a few long corridors and up a single flight of spiral stairs, she led him to an airy parlor-like room. The high domed ceiling was painted in detailed frescoes of cycles of history older than all of the realms, but they made Tony's eyes itch if he stared too long, so he tried to ignore them. The torchlight, and the thin grey daylight through the large and thick (very well-insulated, by necessity) windows gave the whole room a dreamy, twilight feel. The fact that the windows were a view primarily of swirling clouds, fog, and snow only added to that impression further. Most of the wall-space lacking in windows was covered by sturdy wooden shelves, full of mostly books on one half of the room, and potion-making materials and other supplies along the other.

Between both sides, a group of elegant but worn and comfortable couches and chairs were arranged to face one another around a single low table in the center of their midst. Hel drifted toward them, settling into a tall high-backed chair of dark, smooth but slightly scaly hide Tony couldn't identify. It may or may not have made him think of Tim Burton. She then gestured toward the low table and a tray with tea and various other drink options appeared. She beckoned the inventor as Fenrir ambled over to lay down on one side of the chair, his massive head resting on one arm of it, whereupon Hel proceeded to scratch behind one of his ears.

The inventor let his armor draw away from him and fold itself up neatly beside the doorway, then strode further into the room and eventually sat down on the couch nearest the other arm of Hel's chair. "So."

She arched an eyebrow at him. " _So_."

"Apparently I'm 'territory'?"

Her other eyebrow rose to the same height as the first. "Pardon?"

Briefly, Tony explained the _Burning M_ incident.

She nodded, looking like she knew about most of it (Hel knew almost everything, it seemed, especially things she wasn't supposed to know) aside from the part where Loki had actually claimed Tony Stark's death as his own to deal out, and no one else's, in at least one contract with another villain. "If he put it into one, you can be certain that it's in all others."

The inventor's slight frown deepened.

"This offends you, I see."

"I don't like people being killed or brutally mutilated on my behalf at the best of times, but I'd prefer to at least know about it beforehand. Or maybe _asked_ if maybe I’d mind _someone else_ doing the more cathartic _vengeful wrath_ bits, because one thing he and I have always had in common is a tendency to take personal threats very _personally_ , to the point we pretty much always want to handle them ourselves, even if we're not actually capable of it at the time."

"Us too, yes, though in our case we got that from him, and it's with him we usually end up arguing over such things," Fenrir muttered.

"And one another."

The wolf's ears twitched and he shot her an annoyed look.

She shot him a pointedly stern look of her own, and Fenrir eventually looked away; although he did so by rolling his eyes and fixing his stare back on Tony again, rather than his sister.

"Yeah," Tony murmured. "So on one hand, that's one of the sexiest things anyone has ever done for me in a lot of morally problematic ways, but on the other, damn but I was looking forward to doing some damage to him myself, first, and the ‘territory’ business is more than a little fucked up to never bother mentioning to me."

The siblings nodded sagely, and with considerable empathy toward his plight.

"Well it's obvious what you need to do, then," Hel said.

"Is it?"

She smiled at him sweetly. "You already plan to capture him in some manner?"

"Not really much else I can work on, given how peripatetic he generally is," Tony admitted. "The problem is a matter of how to bait the trap."

"Currently, he has been meddling with the Kree, because the sentient being known to them as Supremor, also known to them as the Supreme Intelligence, has set the empire's eyes on the moon of Titan as their next great conquest."

Tony's eyes widened a little. "That sounds really, really bad."

"That's because it truly is, not only for Titan and earth, but for all the realms of Yggrasil, given how dependent upon one another all of our worlds are," Hel concurred. "Also, Titan is still recuperating ideologically and politically from the chaos they were thrown into after A'Lars abdicated his throne last year."

"I did hear about that," Tony murmured. "They say he hasn't been the same since we all killed Thanos."

The goddess nodded. "It is true that the loss of the rest of his kin to Thanos, followed by his mad son's death too shortly after, leaving him still more alone, affected him very poorly. Titan still has resources, both in the genetic potential possessed by Titan's people, as well as their knowledge and technology, which would make the Kree empire more than powerful enough to launch a full-scale attack on earth as they have not in the past been capable of, due to the protections provided to Midgard as a realm of Yggdrasil, and the vast distances between earth and their nearest outposts. If they take the earth, with Asgard's new king still so very new by Aesir's measure of time, and all of the other realms too still recovering in the wake of Odin's madness and death... all of the realms would be put at risk, including even my own."

"So of course, Loki is messing with them."

"Yes." With a nod, she grinned a little wider. "And now, I think it is your turn."

Slowly, the inventor began to grin. "I can make that work with one of my plans the Avengers already mostly-approved, even, I think."

"Excellent," Hel concurred. "Which of them told you to seek our advice first?"

"Natasha," he sighed. "And she was right."

"I do _like_ her," the goddess mused, smirking just a little lasciviously.

"She's got a crush on you she'll never admit to aloud, you know," Tony said, because he knew as well as anyone that turnabout is fair play. "Well, she wouldn't without some incentive, anyway."

"Really?" Hel sounded interested.

Tony winked at her and said, with considerable amusement, "Oh, Hel, yes."

Natasha might kill him for this. Or, she just might thank him.

Either way, he was looking forward to the fireworks.

~~

Two yelling matches with Mar-Vell, one major bribe given over to the Guardians of the Galaxy, eight days, fourteen hours and forty-two minutes later, Tony Stark was hanging upside-down in a holding cell within the capital city of the planet Kree-Lar, and JARVIS had just found him again.

“Good to hear from you, Jarv.”

“Same to you, sir,” the AI concurred. “I’ve placed the EMP-charges and am routing your escape as we speak.”

“Did the homing beacon swap work for the ships?”

“Eventually, yes. Gamora has already reacquired the clean one, while Rocket, Groot and Mr. Quill finished planting the contraband in the homes of various aristocratic families already in precarious positions in relation to the throne.”

Tony caught himself on the floor of his cell with a bit of an effort when the restraints around his ankles and calves suddenly released their hold. “I’m never admitting to Natasha that I learned to stick a landing like this from her. JARVIS, make sure she never finds out as best you can.”

“Of course, sir.”

Getting his feet back on the ground and drawing upright from there, Tony shook his head a bit, blinking off the dizziness as blood drained back down from his brain into the rest of him again for the first time in well over an hour. “Wow, brilliant. Okay, lead me out, J, and let’s get my armor out of their armory with time for me to augment it just a little with more local weaponry.”

“I’ll do my best, sir.”

~~

Escaping the planet before the EMPs went off almost didn’t work out so well.

Gamora brought the ship back lower again, trying to let the other Guardians and Tony get another chance to drag themselves aboard, hopefully before getting vaporized by elite militia forces currently shooting at all of them. Tony managed to take down one of their gliders, and saw another ship near it also drop and crash down a bit more inexplicably. “We have an unexplained ship down. I didn’t do it, and neither did any of you, and that means we might have a whole new set of problems here.”

Just then, the barrages of projectiles let up significantly from one particular direction, and all of them headed for it, because it was taller than it was wide, and apparently provided Gamora stability and security enough to get down lower for them all again. Tony was glad of this, since his boot-repulsors were badly damaged and he was running low on power.

Then, as projectiles hit it, the semi-transparent energy shield flashed a familiar shade of coppery green.

Tony’s tired relief lightened a little, with a bit of fierce mirth, as he picked up Peter Quill by the back of his jacket and hurled him up toward partially-lowered open ramp on the underside of the ship. He then let Groot treat him to the same fate.

Of course, Tony had a better helmet for that sort of thing.

“Seriously, man,” Peter groaned, rubbing at the back of his head. “That really, really hurts, and you’re fired.”

“I hired _you_ ,” the inventor retorted.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Quill muttered, and headed for the front of the plane. “Where is that shield even coming from, Gamora?”

The assassin was staring at something on the ground very intently from the cockpit, as she responded, “An ally, it looks like. I’m trying to find a way to signal him to come aboard, but I can’t-”

“ _GET UP HERE, LOKI, IF YOU WANT A RIDE OUT_ ,” Tony Stark’s voice blared, from external sound systems of the ship most of the Guardians weren’t actually sure how to operate all at once like that.

“STARK I WILL MURDER YOU IF I’M NOW DEAF!” Rocket shrieked.

Quieter, over the internal sound system, Tony responded, “Sorry.” Then cut his feed out entirely.

“I’m getting really tired of him hacking our things like that. I thought Rocket had been Tony-proofing the systems earlier?” Peter sighed.

“There’s only so much he and Groot can do, and we completely fail every time we make attempts to keep an eye on him more constantly,” she reminded him.

“Because he _sabotages us!_ ”

“He sabotages _you_ ,” she corrected.

“Not _just me_.”

She appeared deeply unimpressed. “Mostly you.”

He sighed. “Mostly me.”

Gamora shoed him away with a hand gesture. “Go keep him and our new guest from destroying anything, because it looks like that shield is dropping. Buckle in,” she warned. “ _Now_.”

“Strap in, this won’t be easy!” Peter announced over the intercoms, dropping himself into the first available seat.

~~

Meanwhile, back in the cargo hold where Groot and Rocket were both complaining an awful lot about Tony’s irresponsible hacking of their carefully-calibrated sound systems (according to the not-raccoon who did the calibrating) a new guest did indeed appear aboard the ship.

His long hair wild and wind-whipped, Loki looked a bit haggard in just plain, formal travel-wear in his usual color scheme, and furthermore deeply unamused. “By the Norns _what_ have you people just _done_?”

“Technically, we’re still doing it,” Tony responded immediately. “We’ll be ready to explain it in past tense once we’re off this planet far enough to set off the things.”

“Set off what things?” the trickster demanded sharply.

“The memory wipe, of course,” the inventor said innocently.

Slowly, the god’s eyes began to widen. “ _What?_ ”

The intercom interrupted this time: _“Strap in, this won’t be easy!_ ”

That was when the whole of the ship began to shudder and some of the gravity systems began to shut off. Almost immediately, Loki, Tony, and Rocket were all shoved into seats bolted to one wall by Groot, who then occupied two of the remaining seats, tying ends of seat-belts together.

That was when the ship launched itself upward all at once, with enough force to almost knock out the inventor and the not-raccoon. Apparently, further conversation would have to wait until they were off the planet and could stop accelerating so ridiculously fast.

~~

“I swear, I’m fine,” Tony insisted.

Apparently, purely-human physiology meant that certain life-support systems––such as those which maintained gravity-dampening fields around individuals aboard a ship to counter the physiological damages that too much pressure on those organic sentient bodies would otherwise be able to survive––could tend to require some tweaking, in order to be survivable for him. He tried to jerk away from where Peter was, by all appearances, trying to shove something roughly equivalent to a pen-light into his eye, possibly under the lid if he could get the inventor to stay still long enough.

“You went into cardiac arrest and concussed yourself,” Gamora responded. “Quill, stop that. You have no clue what you’re even doing.”

“Well, who here knows more about actual humans, though,” Starlord insisted.

Everyone around him, including both Tony and Groot, raised a hand.

Peter handed the light to Rocket, who seemed about to jump up onto the table to stand next to Tony, but the god of lies stepped past him and grabbed the inventor by the chin, looking into his eyes and running two green-glowing fingertips along his brow.

Tony stayed perfectly still for him, staring at the trickster’s eyes even as they focused more on the minutiae like the dilations of his pupils, the pulse visible at his throat, and all of the data his spell was collecting, than on the inventor himself.

Gamora smirked with utterly wicked amusement suddenly, and while he could see it out of the far corner of his eye, Tony did his best to ignore her. Idly, he tried to remember the last time Loki had actually been in his personal space quite so closely, and found only three short-lived prior occasions came to mind. _Definitely changing that_ , he thought, with renewed determination. “Aside from the smells of burnt weapons-grade metals and silicates coming from your cloak, you kind of smell good.”

The god snorted. “Don’t try to feign a concussion more severe than the fairly minor bruising that you have here.” His fingers ran back through the inventor’s hair along one side of his head, brushing across a knot of bruised and sensitive tissue.

Wincing, Tony exhaled sharply. “I’m not feigning anything. You?”

Loki ignored that, letting his eyes glow green (Thor had told them about that being technically unnecessary in almost all cases) probably just to avoid eye contact for a few moments, as well as focus only upon his spell-work, not Tony’s words.

The inventor huffed only a very little, and waited, watching Loki’s face the whole time regardless. He didn’t even shut his eyes at the bone-tinglingly sweet pain relief that radiated out from Loki’s palms a moment later, thrummed through his whole body, and then prickled and burned deliciously with healing energy to actually repair the damaged tissues as well as ease their pain. Tony shivered a little with it, feeling almost like there had to be an electric current running through him too, but that honestly might have just been the infatuation with Loki thing.

He would also blame that for how he reached out and grabbed the lapels of Loki’s jacket when the god tried to step back and away from him again. Finally the trickster looked him properly in the eye, this time with an expression of annoyance.

“What are you doing?” Loki queried blandly.

“Asking all other witnesses to please leave the room and if I find video of anything that happens in here afterward, I will personally ruin your happiness for the next several months, and the results will last long after I myself have left your ship,” Tony announced calmly.

The god’s brow furrowed, and he seemed almost willing to admit he was at a loss as to figuring out what Tony was up to, even more so as the Guardians of the Galaxy shuffled their ways out of the room reluctantly. “What is this about, exactly?”

As he waiting for the automated doors to hiss shut, Tony let his eyebrows slowly raise until he was giving the trickster a very pointedly disapproving look.

 _Hiss_. _Click._ Doors were shut. Finally.

“Since when am I your territory?”

“Could I not ask you that same question today of all days, Anthony Stark?” the trickster snapped. “You’ve wreaked havoc on my plans here.”

“I came up with other plans.”

“Why would you _possibly wish_ to do that?”

“I could ask you the same, sweet-cheeks, because you burned M, and that fucker was mine to wreck,” Tony snapped.

Something flickered in the trickster’s gaze, then, which had a slightly too cracked quality. He cleared his throat and glanced away. “My apologies. I won’t repeat such actions again, if you would ask it of me. I never meant to deprive you of either satisfaction or closure.” His voice was just a little distant.

“If you’d date me, you could have equal claim, if you’d prefer.”

Loki met his gaze again, looking lost. “What?”

“You, and I, go out for dinner, maybe a couple of shows, flirt over ridiculously expensive food, and if all goes well you might win me over, and we can make a habit of it. You know. Weekly at the very least, I have to insist, but more frequent dates would also be really pretty awesome.” He started to grin as the god in front of him continued to look increasingly poleaxed. “Though I’m going to start off by adding that I’m not a prude, and have absolutely zero problems with putting out on a first date, or before it, or anytime at all, really. Now, even.” He paused when Loki pressed two fingertips to his lips to bid them still.

“Are you attempting to _court_ me?” the trickster asked, slightly aghast.

“I’m trying to date you, which is... well, in earthly culture I guess you could say that ‘dating’ is to ‘courting’ what foreplay is to sex: important, fun, and generally just a chance to show off and drive each other crazy,” Tony clarified, after pushing Loki’s fingers less than an inch away, because they were nice fingers and he might want to lick them soon. “If dating goes well, then courting sort of has a tendency to happen, uhm, possibly. I hadn’t thought you’d be interested that far, but maybe, if we, uhm, can stand each other long enough to-” He was cut off by Loki pulling him into a kiss so sudden, deep and hungrily eager that the inventor forgot how to breathe entirely for several seconds, a low moan escaping him at the devilish, domineering sweeps of Loki’s clever tongue alongside his own.

The god emitted a low groan himself at how tightly Tony gripped his shoulders, and how fast the inventor’s legs managed to wrap about his waist and drag their bodies still _closer_. When Loki tried to pull back even a little––enough to let them both breath for a moment before diving back in, in fact––the human gripped him still harder, legs squeezing around him tighter, and made a noise of frustration and mild dismay, like letting go even that much was the last thing he wanted to do.

With a pleased hum, the trickster let one hand tighten it’s hold on Tony’s hair on the left side of his head, while the other gripped Tony’s waist and dragged him in closer still, making them both gasp with the first slow grind of the inventor’s hips against Loki’s. They lingered close, lips still brushing as they panted for a moment, both of them moving now, trying to rub against and in time with one another, close and fricative.

“F-fuck, this escalated quickly, I like it,” Tony murmured and kissed the god again before either of them could question it, or worse: hesitate and be unable to explain why. He may have growled when the god pulled away again not long after.

“I daresay it’s taken its sweet time, rather,” Loki drawled, voice pitched a bit low. “I’ve wanted to fuck you since we first met, but you had to go an be still more captivating in every other way as well.”

“I refuse to accept any blame for that, because I fuckin’ offered.”

“You offered me a night or two, but dear Tony, I desire _your life_.” He nipped sharply at the inventor’s lower lip. “Your life, and all that goes with it, to tangle up with my own: that is what I demand, if you would truly pursue this with me.”

“I get yours, too, then. Every last shred, Loki.”

Something in the god’s expression cracked wide open, then: shock and disbelief, and something more pained, but also wildly, madly hopeful. “You can’t possibly want that,” he breathed.

“I can, and I do.”

“Tony...”

“All or nothing, aren’t you usually?” Tony chided softly. “I won’t settle for nothing, and neither will you.”

The god grinned and kissed at the corner of the human’s mouth. “How is it I know this is a bad idea, and yet I can find within me no desire to attempt to dissuade you, and no willpower to push you away, I wonder?”

“Same as me, you love bad ideas.”

Loki hummed, thoughtful. “We’re both bad ideas, just ourselves, choosing to be who and what we both are. Doing so in the same places more often might well cause a series of outright disasters.”

“Sounds fun to me,” Tony murmured. “I always loved trouble.”

“All the more reason mischievous trouble, too, covets you,” the god hissed, and kissed him again, banishing all of their clothing from them at the same time he teleported them both to the nearest private room in which his spells detected more of JARVIS’ presence concentrated than elsewhere.

Predictably, they landed in a room with a bed, a work table and benches, three Iron Man suits, and half the contents of a high-end interplanetary machine shop. Loki noted this but briefly before pressing the mortal still wrapped about him so tightly down into the bed.

Tony almost immediately emitted a high, surprised and mellifluous noise as something hot and slick pressed into him, despite the fact Loki’s hands were busy  pinning the inventor’s wrists to the bed, and the god’s cock was rubbing against his own, and so what exactly––“Are you seriously using magic to lube me up, holy fuck how are you even d-doing that _aaahhhffuck_.”

“I can feel that as though it were just another hand, you know,” Loki purred in his ear. “You’re so tight for me, so hot. Do I feel cold to you, Tony?”

“N-no. Slightly cool, but that’s f-f...mmm, oh fuck that feels good, you seriously just made that colder that’s–– _fuck yes there, Loki, please fuck me_.”

“I do believe I’ve found your prostate.”

“Yes, now _please fuck me_ until you _bruise_ it,” Tony moaned, as the pressure and friction against that spot picked up yet again at the same time that Loki’s magic stretch him open further, making the inventor emit a broken-off whimper as he arched his hips into the pressure, feeling the slight angle-shift open him further, letting more in. “Oh _fuck_. H-how deep are you-” he cut off with a gasp and a full-body shudder. “Ohhhgod.”

“You feel exquisite, Tony,” the god murmured, close to his throat. “Would you beg me to fuck you here, like this? Or would you prefer to be rolled over and pounded until you can scarcely find energy left to move? I could keep it up for hours, and see just how much your mortal body can take of me.”

“Loki, please, however you like, just please fuck me before I come without even getting to f-feel you in me,” Tony panted, his voice a little hoarse. He then hissed a little as Loki pulled one of his legs up higher until the inventor’s knee hooked over the god’s shoulder, and one long pale hand slid down between their bodies to press and guide the head of his cock through the lube-slicked ring of muscle at Tony’s entrance. “Oh, _fuuuck_ ,” the inventor gasped, back arching as he tried not to tense up at the sudden invasion, because Loki was _gifted_ and Tony was feeling every inch of it filling him, stretching and holding his body open around itself just by being.

“Breathe,” Loki reminded him gently.

“M-more, don’t you dare hold back on me now,” the inventor growled, then cried out in pain and bliss alike as the god then sunk into the rest of the way hard and all at once. “ _Oh, my god, you’re a god, yes, I get it ohfuck._ ”

“Has it been long for you, since you’ve been taken like this?” Loki murmured.

“Yyyears, yeah, and you’re––god, Loki, you’re so deep, please I need you to move, please fuck me,” Tony panted, trying to grind his hip down for more, but finding it difficult as Loki lifted the inventor’s other leg from his waist, hand pressing into the back of Tony’s knee until he was still further spread open, with even less leverage Tony might be able to get by his own power. When the god pulled out long and slow, Tony emitted a ragged moan far louder than his previous ones, and it escalated to a low cry as Loki slammed back home again, and began to pick up a slow, deep and punishing rhythm that way, leaving the inventor panting and struggling for more friction, more speed and more of Loki’s mouth trailing down his throat.

“Say my name again,” Loki ordered.

“You like how I say it, _Lok_ i?” Tony challenged. “Do I successfully make it sound like you’re all mine, my god, my Loki?” He cut off with a hiss and a low whimper when this earned him a sharp bite high on the side of his neck: hard enough to bruise, and located where no one would be able to miss it.

The trickster licked over the teethmarks left in his wake, in time with his languid thrusts and then said, “You’re so eager for me, you want me to paint you with bruises, inside and out?”

“I want to feel you for days, every time I move, and think of how you feel like this,” Tony moaned. “Harder, Loki, do it.”

“Oh my sweet Tony,” the god whimpered, then sucked in a breath and began fucking him harder and faster by far, the bed under them making sounds of protest that suggested its structural integrity might be at risk. “You will never be rid of me now.”

“P-please yes,” the inventor choked out, and tried to turn his face away as he felt himself blush like hadn’t in years, from his hairline all the way down his chest. “One day I’ll make you promise me that, with enough clauses you won’t boil your own blood prematurely, but I want you to feel it anytime you come close to going too far, to remind you I’m selfish as you.”

“Tony,” Loki whispered, low and desperate. “How I love the twists of your devious mind.” He wrapped a hand around the inventor’s cock and stroked slow and hard.

By the second up-stroke, Tony was almost sobbing with how close he was to the edge, unable to quite make it over. Pleas fell from his throat without restraint, all need and desire, his voice going rougher and yet lower in volume as he began to tremble. “Loki, please make me come, please.”

“You will come when I tell you then.”

The noise Tony made could’ve been easily mistaken for inhuman.

“Do you know how you look, spread out for me like this?” the trickster purred. “The mighty Iron Man, Tony Stark, whimpering for a god’s cock, begging me to make you come, so _desperate_ , my Tony.”

The inventor emitted a high-pitched and needy sound when Loki’s hand paused to squeeze and twist just _so_ on the next upstroke around the head of his cock. “P-please tell me to come,” he breathed, shuddering and barely holding it together. “Loki, please, my g-god _Loki!_ ”

“You’re so good for me, Tony,” said the trickster, then, even as his thrusts became harder, making his lover cry out high and needy on each one. “Come for me, show me how much you love this, and _come now!_ ’

With a last cracked gasp of Loki’s name, Tony fell over the edge and shattered, shaking and whining as he came down slowly and unevenly, with Loki still fucking him, now hard and fast and far less controlled, the god hissing praises close to his ear as he, too came, with the jerking aftershocks of pleasure running up Tony’s spine milking him as they both came back to themselves.

“I’m keeping you,” Tony then muttered. “You no longer get a say in this. I need your brain, and your stupidly perfect beautiful face, and your wit and your perfect cock in my life way more often. Like all the time. This is mandatory.”

Loki kissed his forehead with a content huff. “As like beckons to like, your personal brand of chaos beckons to me, and I do hope I will never let me free of it.”

“Wow...”

“Is it t-”

“The hottest thing I’ve ever heard? Kinda, yeah.”

The trickster smirked at him, disbelievingly content. “Mmm. I would have you again.”

“Seriously?”

“Magic, Tony, is your new best friend.”

“Rhodey might object to thaaaahhh _holy fuck Loki_!” Tony whimpered when the god’s hand gripped his hastily-recovered erection and stroked slow and firm. “Oh fuck that stings but don’t stop holy fuck don’t stop.”

“I have no plans to, my love.”

The inventor swallowed thickly. “Wow, you’re perfect and so fucked up too, I love it, and you, come here,” he dragged the god back down close again. “Mine.”

“Yours,” Loki concurred, and licked the already-darkening bite-mark on his throat. “And you are mine, now.”

“Y-yours, Loki, _yes_.”

They broke the bed twenty minutes later.

~~

Loki was more reserved, upon their return to earth, at least as soon as he stepped into the Avengers-only levels. His shoulders visibly stiffened and he started scanning all available exits of any room or corridor they passed, however subtly.

Tony elbowed him lightly. “They actually helped me come up with this plan, you know,” he added.

The god stared at him with unabashed incredulity. “Pardon?”

“I’m not the only one who likes you, but I’m the only one around here you’re allowed to fuck.”

“If I suspect you of willful infidelity, you will not know what hit you because you will be deceased before the information from the rest of your nervous system can reach your brain,” Loki countered in a light and breezy tone, as though reading the evening’s weather forecast on a local radio station.

Tony stared at him for a long moment, his expression difficult to read.

“Is that a problem?”

“I think I should have found your words to be at least a bit frightening, but instead I just keep thinking instead that you’re ridiculously hot when you’re possessive, and I’m trying to not walk around today with a bad case of priapism.”

The god beamed at him beatifically.

Tony opened the door into the main common rooms and gestured for Loki to enter first. He really hoped no one aside from Loki heard the noise that escaped his throat when the trickster’s fingers trailed up his arm, along his shoulder, and up the back of his neck to drag short nails along his scalp and long fingers through his hair. It wasn’t exactly the manliest sound he’d ever made.

Then he followed, smirking a bit when he smelled Bruce’s cooking, specifically Tony’s favorite curry recipe. He could hear the clatter of place settings being hastily laid out and Clint and Steve arguing about the cutlery in mock-serious tones, trying to crack one another up as they set the table.

“Just in time, it seems,” Loki mused.

“Yeah. I think we are,” Tony agreed, taking the god’s hand in his. “Come on.”

So Loki followed, taking his first steps into Tony Stark’s life that allowed him to feel like he was wanted there, and like just perhaps this was where he belonged, pure and simple. Well... impure and obscenely complicated, actually, but that suited them both far better anyway.

“Bruce you’re a wonderful person,” was the first thing Tony said, as they stepped into the kitchen, on their way to the dining room, as he all but wrestled the chef away from his spice cabinet and into a fervent hug. “Your curry smells so good.

“Tony, please let go before there’s an incident,” the doctor said blithely.

“I did spend a long while amongst you in the recent past, Dr. Banner,” Loki assured. “I’m aware that he is always like this, with you.”

The inventor had the gall to pout at him.

“Off, Tony, come on, the curry is on the table and I’m sure Natasha is threatening to stab someone in there by now,” Bruce sighed, patting his friend’s shoulder.

“Thank you, you’re wonderful, I love your curry. Loki, try some of this curry and then let me kiss you, because I think the only way the flavor could really be improved would be by it being on your tongue, but I am determined to test this theory out scientifically,” Tony rambled, and all but dragged the trickster after him as he headed into the dining room.

Shaking his head and following them with a large pot of rice between his hands, the biochemist chuckled at them. Throughout the evening, the Avengers noted with considerable amusement the surprised-and-pleased looks that the inventor and the god kept shooting one another when they thought no one else would notice.

For the first time, Tony felt like he might really get to keep this one, and Loki thought, with his heart in his throat, that he might want to be kept by him in turn.

“You tap that?” Clint asked Loki, completely deadpan.

“Jackhammered,” the god corrected. “Isn’t that right, darling?”

“Yep. Nearly lost a filling, even,” Tony called back, not missing a beat.

The archer looked horrified. “I surrender. Please use magic to erase the last few minutes from my memory?”

“No. I want you to enjoy those delicious nightmares,” Loki purred, dropping the pitch of his voice so that it sounded richer, and rose up from deeper in his chest.

“Oh god, no,” Clint choked and fled from the room.

Tony cracked up, laughing so hard that he had to stumble over and grab the trickster’s arm to stay upright. “He fucking _ran_! Oh, you’re brilliant!”

“I dearly wish I hadn’t heard any of that,” Steve sighed from the doorway, where he had been waiting, with mounting horror, for all of them to get out of his way so that he could carry another stack of plates to the table.

Tony only laughed harder, and then harder still as Steve shook his head and stepped awkwardly around them to reach the table. Loki watched his lover laugh with considerable approval until he was suddenly aware that a familiar shadow had approached his other side.

“Natasha,” he said, and then turned to look at her.

“Welcome,” she said. “Good to see you back.”

He raised both eyebrows at her.

She winked. “You’re a good ally, with the appropriate incentives. I enjoy working with you. C’mon, now, and sit down.” She tugged both of their shirt-fronts simultaneously for a moment, then back-stepped, letting the fabric slide out from between her fingers. When she back-stepped again, they followed, and she turned to face forward again and take her own place at the table.

She then cleared her throat quietly. “Oh, and Tony?”

“Yes, Nat dear?”

“Thank you for that recommendation to Hel,” she said, smiling with pure, indecent satisfaction.

“You’re very welcome.”

Loki seemed amused by this as well, but didn’t say a word.

“Is it safe?” squeaked one of the air ducts in the far corner.

“Dust off _fully_ before you come near this table, Clint,” Bruce said, with an edge of green.

“Yessir!” There was the sound of an archer scrambling in a narrow space, and then quiet again from the duct.

“Brother.”

Loki turned towards to doorway again, his expression masked. “Thor.”

The Thunderer smiled at him a bit knowingly. “You look well. Welcome to Midgard.”

“Thank you,” Loki said, and for once, meant it quite sincerely.

 


End file.
